Maidens and Mystics - Part I

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Come morning, the others were still asleep, Pyrrha herself often awake before anyone except Jaune himself. And he was already gone, off to his morning meditations on the roof as he was so wont to do no doubt. And given his anger at what they'd been told the night before, about what was happening to team RWBY, she had no doubt that he needed the time alone. Quiet, to calm himself down and prevent himself lashing out. And, she had no doubt for how well she knew him, how he could turn it to advantage.

For team RWBY or them, she had no idea, but for now he had her faith.

Rising quietly, she gathered her uniform and Scroll and went to take a nice, hot shower, leaving the little device plugged in by the sink to charge while she cleaned herself. After, smelling and feeling far cleaner and more relaxed, she set about the somewhat arduous task of braiding her hair. A bit of an annoyance, in all honesty, but she loved her long hair and having it tied back was just safer. A hand fisted in long hair could drive even the most stalwart Hunter to their knees, gender not mattering. She'd seen it happen to another Huntress in the arena, when she was younger, and her instructor had told her countless stories of warriors who'd died for the same.

That it made her look good had always been a plus, both in her mind and in her various agent's minds. A rare congruence between her and them, as well as them and those among their own number. And so an easy decision for all involved, for once in their time together. She'd then had to shoot down a dozen photo-shoots, of course, as they always tended a bit too skin-heavy for her liking, but all that came and went brought and took both good and bad.

You just had to adapt to it and, in the end, she was at least good at adapting.

"Which is how you survive this too, Nikos. Adapt, survive, overcome..." She murmured to the reflection in the mirror, hands absent-mindedly twining her hair across the towel covering her chest.

Her eyes lingered over the cleft of her breasts, where her heart was, and she felt it race. Her hand tightened around the ponytail at the reminder, nails digging into her palm, focusing her. Letting out a breath, she sighed and pulled the towel up, hiding the pale flesh from view and pushing the thoughts out of her head. Obsessing only led to wallowing in her anxiety and fear or worse, lashing out desperately in a vain search for salvation. Neither of which would work for her here, she knew.

Though it pained her, she also knew it meant she couldn't do much to help her friends. She didn't have the funds to compete with the SDC, and she couldn't make a public war of it. Not with the headsman's axe hovering over her neck. Or, more accurately she supposed grimly, the headsman's bow aimed at her heart. And so, though it pained her, she couldn't step up and do anything.

Public humiliation wasn't worth fighting over when it could cost her life, and she was sure team RWBY would agree. But still...

"Fate is fickle as it spins its web, an eager spider against which you do not step. But if in fate's web you tread be careful of its tangled webs, dragging down what struggles first." She murmured the old nursery rhyme as she stood and cast the towel away to get dressed. In recent days, when she was alone, she'd taken to reciting it out of habit, having heard it from her own mother as a child.

Then, when she was young and beaming a toothy grin at any and every story that spoke of ancient honor and heroics. Young, then, and so naive. But not one to look too deeply into the words actually being said, when the picture book showed resplendent warriors fighting back a dragon.

Older now, she could see the macabre idea at the core of the rhyme, and remember the dark shapes of men and women dead on the ground in the same book. Accept whatever your fate was, with honor and integrity, and be in one of these two hero's shows. Dead buying a chance for the future, or alive and striking down the beast before you. A good story in ancient times, when men and women with wooden spears had to fend off Goliaths attacking their tribes and holdings. The Mistralian way, that was, bound up in honor and carried in on a shield.

A good end, eventually, but that was the thing.

Eventually didn't mean soon, and Jaune had warned her of soon. She wasn't a coward, she'd shown as much, but… Even Leo of Ides had resisted the First king's army when it crossed from Sanus to Anima to conquer it, and he'd know for fact that his ultimate victory relied on his dying.

"Only a fool doesn't fear death. And only the suicidal don't resist it when they see it." She reminded herself, going through the same morning song and dance of not losing her mind with everything going on. A dance that ended significantly after she finished her makeup, but which was interrupted as he Scroll chimed.

Finishing her foundation and reaching for it, she flicked it open and hummed, reading, "Please meet with the Headmaster as soon as possible. He will be waiting for you all day in his room, but earlier is better. A matter of dire importance awaits and you are requested to come alone. Why will be explained there. Only you are to come. Anyone else will be asked to leave. Thank you. ~ Headmistress Goodwitch."

The insistence, not just once but twice, that she be alone had her on edge. Her chest ached where Jaune told her she would be struck down, but she shook it off. Neither the headmaster or headmistress used arrows, and neither would kill her in his own office. Such would be too obvious. But there she was,weighing the likelihood of her friends and teachers killing her in cold blood.

This paranoia was warping her…

"Good morning." Ren murmured, waiting by the door with a sleepy Nora as was tradition. She gave him a nod, said she was going to meet the headmaster, and the man paused, eyes narrowing. Just as quietly, he asked, "Why?"

"Don't know yet, I'm afraid." She answered truthfully, packing her bag with books idly as she did. "I aim to find out, though, as easy as that will probably be. Do you know where my second year Grimm Studies book went?"

"Under the bed." Ren answered, shoving Nora into the bathroom and wishing her a good day before joining her.

Whether they were strictly needed to study and attend whatever classes there were today or not, she had a penchant for doing so regardless. And the teachers didn't mind her sitting in, as long as she stayed caught up. Besides, it was a good distraction, and a good way to better herself. That logic had made it a winner in Jaune's book, at least. Though he knew she didn't need his permission, she'd stood her ground enough for her to be sure of that even if he was the controlling type, it was still good to enable their coordination.

That was how she - and they - survived whatever mess was coming intact, they both knew.

Her pack on her back, she left, walking through the early morning halls towards Beacon Tower. Where the headmaster himself had called for her, and there was her paranoia again, curling in her stomach like a weighted snake. Once again, she ignored it until the weight went away, and sighed as a new anxiety hit her in the chest.

'What on Remnant could the headmaster want with her?' She thought, coming to a stop in front of the elevator and pursing her lips. She stared at the closed elevator door like it could answer, then sighed. She half-turned to leave, and then stopped again, and sighed again. Quietly, she chided herself, "To think the 'Invincible Girl' is so afraid of a mere door… What would my opponents do if they knew?"

"Go into a match against you with doors roped to their backs and chests, I imagine."She started at the sudden voice and turned to find the headmaster himself, chuckling and smiling over a steaming cup of what she assumed to be- "Cocoa, not coffee, this morning. I have more in my office if you want some."

Cocoa.

What she assumed to be hot, morning cocoa.

"I-I am quite alright for now, but thank you." She stammered, caught off guard by the man - who she'd not heard in the least, a testament to her absent mind or his practiced hand, or maybe both - and turning to face him directly and more respectfully. Clearing her throat, she prompted, politely, "You… You asked me to come and see you, Sir?"

"I did indeed, Miss Nikos." In full view of her he turned, looking around as though to spot those who could be listening in while he took a drink. Once he'd turned around and seemed satisfied, he look back to her with a smile of satisfaction. "Well, seeing as things are in order, shall we?"

"I… Suppose so, yes." Though what he could mean by 'in order' she wasn't precisely sure, the hallway not quite empty but as clean as always.

"I have a couple of guests for you to meet as well." He explained as they stepped forward and he slid his identification card into a little slot by the call button, overriding the rarely used thing to bring it directly to him. When it dinged open on a sleepy, surprised looking Port, Ozpin simply smiled and murmured an apology, beckoning him out.

To her surprise, and rising anxiety, the man simply stepped out with a quietly murmured, "Good Morning, Headmaster.

"The same to you, Peter. I hear they are doing breakfast casserole in the cafeteria today." The man grunted and, paying her no mind at all, meandered off to wherever he was headed. The cafeteria, she guessed, from how tired he looked so early and the direction he was headed in. That he'd ignored her wholly dashed the paranoid hope that since she'd been seen, she'd be safer than she might otherwise have been. Her disappointment must have shown and been misread, though, because Ozpin chuckled, "A fan of the casserole?"

"I-I, well, yes." She stammered, embarrassed and caught off guard at having been caught out. Anxiously, she tugged her ponytail around to run her hands over, the sensation soothing, and rambled, "I-I like the biscuits which they tend to serve with them more, though, if I'm honest. Butter, cheesy and garlic is just…"

"A taste of home?" Ozpin prompted amiably as the door slid closed in front of them and, at a single button from the man, began to rise steadily. "Northern Mistralian cuisine tends to favor buttery and savory foods, if I recall correctly. And you spent many of your years in the northern territories."

"I did, yes." And though it was common knowledge, with her tournament career and where she'd studied early Huntress skills at, she felt a pang of paranoia. A pang she quashed, of course, leaning into the conversation for the distraction of it. "They served breakfast casseroles much like they do here over there, albeit caked atop with cheese and crumbled bacon and biscuit. And the biscuits are clearly of Mistralian design as well."

"The cheese and biscuit must make for a delicious crunch on the crust." Ozpin observed, earning a nod from the girl and smiling. Fishing his Scroll free, the man typed out a message that he explained as he scribed. "Our meeting will likely drag, and I haven't eaten. I doubt, as early as it is, that you have either."

"I have not, sir." Aside from a small protein bar the likes of which she kept to hand for whenever she needed a quick calorie infusion. And if he was ordering it made specially by the cooks… "The, uh, Mistralian style has a tiny sprinkle of red pepper on the crust as well. To compliment the savor of the sausage and garlic."

"Hm?" He shot her an amused look and she flushed, stammering an apology. The headmaster only chuckled, waving her concerns off and reassuring her breezily, "The suggestion sounds wonderful, Miss Nikos. I will add it to the order, since we intend to ask so much of you. Though rest assured that if you refuse then you can still eat, of course. It's not meant as a bribe, and I am not so cruel as to deny you your favorite food."

"What is it that you-"

"In a moment, Miss Nikos." Ozpin cut her off, the doors sliding open on his office as though his words had prompted it. Inside was Miss Goodwitch, as she'd expected, but there were two more people with her. A man in military uniform whose face tickled the back of her mind, and another slouched in a chair, nursing a silver flask. Ozpin introduced both as they stepped into the room, gesturing to each in turn, "You know the deputy headmistress, of course."

"I do." She nodded, "Good morning."

"The man in the uniform is General James Ironwood, headmaster of Atlas Academy and the head of their entire military as well." That was where she knew him, then. The name and titles reminded her of the paper, about the man who held more power than any other, sitting on two Council seats at once. With a nod from the seated man, Ozpin finished with, "And this is Qrow Branwen, my personal agent in the field. An excellent Huntsman in his own right."

"Good morning, Sirs." For Ironwood, she curtsied elegantly, owing politeness to his station. The man nodded in kind and, anxious again, she turned back to Ozpin and asked, "Sir, why are such… Important people, all gathered here?"

"There are many answers to that question." Ozpin half-answered, striding past her and around his desk to ease into his seat. Easing into it, he took a drink and again began gesturing to each of his guests as she took her own seat, between them all. "Miss Goodwitch is here to work with James, that is General Ironwood, in the interests of ending a certain legal battle I am embroiled in."

"Team RWBY." Pyrrha nodded, shrugging when the older man's brow rose in question. "We were told of it already, sir. We're good friends, after all."

"Indeed you are." The way he said it was odd, even as simple as the words were. As normal as they were. They were said too consideringly, as though he were noting it for use. Regardless, he moved on before she could consider it, "Qrow is here for other matters, related to why we asked you here. What we want from you. Or rather, what we hope you can help us do, for the people of Vale and beyond."

"I see." And gods did his phrasing sound geared to her. Or was that the paranoia talking again? She couldn't tell, really. For now she only nodded and, quietly, asked, "What is it you are going to ask of me, then? It must be important for such prestigious individuals to be involved with it."

"Oh it is very important indeed." The man smiled, nodding and leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, and his chin on his interlaced fingers. Watching her for a moment, he finally asked a question that surprised her, "Tell me Miss Nikos, what is your favorite fairy tale?"

For a moment, all she could do was blink owlishly.

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Jaune had been angry many, many times in his life. Fury was, after all, a weapon for a Sith. And while he was certainly no Lord, using his emotions, and gauging how deep or rabid they ran, was old hat to him. Instructor had quite literally beaten that into him, citing that it was the most important skill for a Sith and thus invaluable on the Path of Balance as an excuse. Jaune had learned the lessons quickly, clutching stinging wounds or bruises and explaining rapidly how angry he was in clear, concise words. Sorrow, love, passion, joy, these were taught later.

Taught and retaught, until he could describe them in the flowery language of poets, and understood them as deeply.

Tied with the Force, then, he could sense the emotions of others. And the other occupant of the roof was positively fuming, radiating shame, grief and rage in waves like a tempest, stirring the Force up. Had he been any weaker, of will or mind or even in using the Force, the hurricane it kicked up could have overwhelmed him. Washed him away and dragged him under to drown in her own emotions.

"What do you want, Jaune?" Blake finally snapped, sitting with her back against an air conditioning vent and a leg dangling off the roof comfortably. Apparently, she was tired of him standing there silently, looking over Beacon and just… Well, basking in her anger, to help him understand how she felt. "Or are you just taking in the view? A helpless Faunus wanting some alone time, hiding from the world tickle your fancy?"

"Don't snap at me because the universe shit in your cereal. I'm only here to offer my help, if I can be of any. Distant as we are, we are friends." It was a bit coarse of a response, he knew, but it had the desired effect. Blake clammed up, ashamed at her snapping at a friend, tucking her knee against her chest and curling an arm around it. Sighing, he apologized, "I didn't mean to be… Well, mean. I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Blake nodded, "Me too."

"No classes today?" He asked, probing her for information she'd at least think useless. Or unrelated, at least.

"Actually, yeah, we do." She chuckled darkly and shook her head, "I ditched. My team is being supportive of Weiss and I, but…"

"But you wanted to be alone." He guessed, earning a small nod from her and taking a seat on the edge of the roof, feet dangling over a dorm below him. And beyond that, over trees. Sighing, he asked, tired already and sounding it, "So, what's the plan, then?"

"Excuse me?"

"The plan." He repeated, giving her a hard look out of the corner of his eyes. "If things go south, and I mean hard south, what is your plan? The SDC isn't exactly a forgiving entity, from what I've heard."

"Depends…"

"On?" In answer, she looked up and flicked her ears and Jaune nodded understandingly. A human wouldn't get much better, he suspected, but pointing that out would only aggravate her further. Instead, he explained, "If things go badly, what do we do? And don't," he cut in, when her eyes narrowed like she was going to argue, "say that there 'is no we' or whatever, Blake. Friends stick together."

"You barely know me…"

"Nora cried last night." He grunted, remembering the sight, before they'd put on a movie and had pancakes. Even laughing and curled up with her partner, her eyes had been red. With a shrug, he finished lamely, "Even if I didn't care about any of you, she does. So I have to, too, even if it seems not to make any sense."

A crying Nora was enough to break your heart, after all.

"...There is no backup plan." Blake finally admitted, seemingly resigned to him involving himself. In explanation, when he turned to her in surprise, she murmured numbly, "Ozpin is intervening to deal with it. He told us not to worry about it. And with no better options myself, well..." Another shrug, "I don't exactly have any ideas beyond waiting and hoping he can sort it out."

"Hm." It wasn't a bad plan, per se, but it was somewhat anticlimactic to hear. Especially given what little they'd told him about Blake's past. Sensing something about it, he murmured, loud enough for her to hear, "What about the Fang?"

"What about them?" Her eyes were narrower than ever when he met her eyes and her ears were both facing him. Alert. Suspicious.

"You were a member, and now this? The rumors about you and Weiss?" He raised an eyebrow at how she stiffened and flushed, well aware of the rumors he was talking about. And apparently dirtier ones, too, from how embarrassed she looked. Turning back to look out on Beacon, he repeated and expounded, "So, what about the Fang? What will they do? Will they do anything?"

"To Beacon?" Blake scoffed, "I doubt it. Beacon doesn't care what you are, or were, only what you want to do."

"Speaking from experience?" She scowled and looked away, eyes narrowed, and he sighed. Like pulling teeth, this was… "I need to know what to expect, Blake. What to watch out for."

"You speak like you know what to look for."

"I do sound like that, don't I?" He sighed and shook his head, thinking. Deciding. How much to tell, how much to imply, and whether he should do either without Pyrrha here. Finally, he settled on, "I know there's a threat to my partner's life. And no," he cut in again when she made to argue, this time with a confused face rather than an affronted on, "I won't explain what the threat is or how it got to me. Ask all you want, I won't say a word."

"That's… Ominous." He shrugged and she sighed, giving up on questioning it at least for now. Turning aside, she tried a different tact, "If you won't answer my questions, I won't answer yours."

"Not good enough." He shook his head, reaching out into the Force and pushing it towards her. Into her, overwhelming her mind forcefully. She winced and he pushed through the bit of resistance he was surprised to find, asking very simply, "What are the odds the White Fang attack Beacon? And if they did, what would they do to accomplish that?"

"I… I don't..." She blinked and he felt too much resistance for a normal person to muster, her face pinching as the Force pushed her will aside. Tried to get her to agree to his way of thinking and tell her what he wanted, even though she didn't want to. It was no Mind Trick, he was siphoning too much negativity to power for that, but after a second she blinked and answered. "I don't think the Fang would attack Beacon. Too risky, and no return."

"No return?" He prompted, releasing the Force now she was talking.

"Beacon helps everyone. Human, Faunus, they protect them all the same. And the headmaster is known to be egalitarian." She shrugged, then, and Jaune nodded. That was her answer, and pushing would get him nothing, even if the thought didn't make him sick already.

Knowing he'd already pushed her as far as he could, he stood, "I'll leave you to your thinking, then."

"Thanks." She grunted, turning once more to look out on Beacon and shaking off the control he'd exercised over her. Limited and short-lived as it had been, she would feel off for a while yet, he was sure.

As he pulled the door back into the building open, his Scroll buzzed and he flicked it open. "Yeah, Pyr?"

"I… Need you to come to Ozpin's office, Jaune." His brow furrowed and, after a second, she added in a quiet voice, "It's about our… Problem. The one we've been working on for a while? I think I… Found a lead."

"On my way." He grunted shortly, uncaring if Blake heard him and slamming the door behind him. Whatever was going on, why-ever Ozpin had called her, he was suddenly very anxious.

Maybe he'd get his saber before going to meet her… It would make him feel better, at least.

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Jacques sighed and pinched his nose, sitting in his office with a dozen lawyers in front of him, holding heaps of documents piled over their shoulders and in their arms.

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(Review Responses)

Talon Ibn la Ahad :

…..Sir, my lawyers will be in touch.

Argus :

That is very true. Nora with a SSD is an image though. Why do i feel like she'd try and blow up a star to match its name…?

Steelrain :

The more this story progresses and gains interesting avenues, the more I plan a potential follow-up with a wider galaxy.